Home > Deep (Stage Dive #4)(43)

Deep (Stage Dive #4)(43)
Author: Kylie Scott

Vaughan stepped to the side, out of the line of sight. What a surprising encounter. Guess I’d finally started glowing. Of course, it might be the boobs. After I’d had the baby perhaps I’d consider implants, if this was the sort of attention they got me. Ha! Just joking. Mostly.

The minute I stepped outside, Ben was standing there, waiting, looming. Immediately my body went on high alert. I searched his face for his mood, read his body language (mildly impatient with a trace of don’t-poke-the-bear cranky). There could be no denying that Vaughan was built and pretty. You’d have to be two days dead not to get turned on at the sight of him naked. But even then, Vaughan hadn’t gotten to me like this. The moment I came into Ben Nicholson’s orbit I was helpless, powerless to resist his pull. Foolish heart and vagina. The brain knew better but no one was listening.

People now filled the room and music was blasting out of the stereo. Ben bent, putting his mouth near my ear. “Anne said you wanted to talk. Let’s head up to the room, yeah?”

I nodded.

“Everything okay?” he asked. And man, he’d asked me that question over and over again in so many different ways lately. I was tired of putting a smiley face on it.

“Let’s talk upstairs.”

He put an arm around me, safely guiding me out of the crowded room. People were dancing, drinking, who knows what. It was a regular rock ’n’ roll hootenanny. We stayed silent, waiting for the elevator. When it arrived it was empty.

“Have a good night?” I asked, stepping inside.

“Explain something to me,” he said, backing me up against the nearest wall.

“Ah, what?”

With muscular arms braced above my head, he narrowed his eyes on me. “I heard another voice in that bathroom. A man’s voice.”

I wasn’t going to lie to him. I had no reason to. “Yes, I was talking to Vaughan.”

“You were talking to Vaughan in the bathroom?” His head lowered, nose coming close to touching the tip of my own. The man had a raging fire in his dark eyes, I kid you not. Actual real live jealousy, burning bright.

“Are you serious?” I asked, deeply confused because I couldn’t afford to be elated. Any minute now he’d do his usual thing and run. Just like in his truck that night. Just like in Vegas. I didn’t really think I could handle it again. Not now. My life felt precarious enough as it was, so susceptible to sudden, extreme change.

“Very,” he said, clearly cranky. “I already warned him off you.”

“But you and I are just friends, remember?”

He blinked, outrage momentarily suspended by surprise.

“We already had this conversation and that’s what you said you wanted,” I said. “And now you’re looking like you want to pee on my shoes to mark your territory.” I shook my head. “What’s going on here?”

“We need to talk.”

“Yeah, good idea.”

“Did he make a pass at you?”

“Not about that,” I groaned. “Ben, I’m getting my own room. You do your thing and have your space, and I’ll do the same. I think we’ll get along a lot better long-term that way. That’s what we decided, right? So that’s what’s happening. Decision made.”

“Because of Vaughan?” he asked, his back teeth grinding.

“Vaughan has nothing to do with this. Because of us having a baby. Because of you and me and this crappy cycle we’ve got going on where I get my hopes up and then you run away or hide behind the friends thing. It’s completely doing my head in. It’s not healthy.” I set my hands against his chest and pushed him back a step. “You know, you pretend to be this easy come, easy go, laid-back kind of guy. No ties or commitment, just living the rock ’n’ roll lifestyle to the limit and all that. And hey, that’s just awesome, Ben. Good for you. But if that’s who you want to be, then don’t go making a separate set of rules for me. Because that’s as hypocritical as fuck.”

Whoops. Another dollar for the swear jar.

His jaw shifted angrily. Or his beard did. Whatever.

“Good night.” The elevator doors slid open and I slid out, walking so fast I was damn near running. Time to get my stuff packed. If there wasn’t a spare room, I’d share with Anne and Mal for the night, make other arrangements in the morning. Man, I was so tired. Could have sworn my limbs weighed more than a mountain. If I was glowing, it sure as hell didn’t feel like it at this time of night.

“I never wanted to be in a relationship,” he yelled from back down the shiny hotel hallway.

“Congratulations. You’re not.” I gave him the bird too, because the bird was not swearing.

“Lizzy! Fuck. Wait.”

I slid my key through the door lock and hustled my ass on in. Not locking him out, though it was tempting. But hell, one of us needed to be the adult. I charged on through the living room and into my room, grabbing a suitcase from out of the closet. It was already over half full. When you only ever stopped for two nights at a time, there never seemed much point in unpacking. A few items were hung up—a coat and a couple of dresses. The rest had gone to the laundry service. There was just my makeup and junk in the en suite, a couple of pairs of shoes strewn on the floor, and I was good to go. Vacating the premises, ahoy!

“You’re leaving,” he said, standing in the bedroom doorway.

“Yep.”

“Liz…”

“Hmm?” I turned, waiting for whatever nonsense he’d try to sell me on next. The big man just stood there, though, face set in harsh lines.

And he had nothing.

“Probably for the best,” I said. “I’m not sure there’s anything either of us could say right now that would help. Let’s take some time to calm down and talk about it tomorrow, okay?” Yeah. Toothbrush, hairbrushes, and all that crap got thrown into my toiletries bag, which was then shoved into the corner of the suitcase. Next went my Converse, Birks, and fancy sandals with a heel. Then everything out of the cabinet. “You know, I think if we have our own space we might actually be able to give the being friends thing a good shot.”

No comment.

Over went the top of the suitcase and I started zipping it up. Better call someone up to help me carry it, since I doubted Ben was in the mood to be helpful. If I’d been warned once about lifting heavy objects “in my condition,” I’d been warned a hundred times. I’d mosey on down to reception and—

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